


New

by Anythingtoasted



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-11
Updated: 2012-09-11
Packaged: 2017-11-14 00:11:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/509263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anythingtoasted/pseuds/Anythingtoasted
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“This is -“ He stops. Sam and Dean look at one another, then back at him, Castiel with a spoon at eye-level, peering at it as if it’s going to bite him or kiss him, and he can’t decide which he would prefer. He frowns deeply, and then drops his spoon back into the carton. “I’m not sure.” He says conclusively, and then looks slowly up at the Winchesters, his eyes far more serious than they should be about ice cream. (drabble)</p>
            </blockquote>





	New

“This is -“ He stops.

 Sam and Dean look at one another, then back at him, Castiel with a spoon at eye-level, peering at it as if it’s going to bite him or kiss him, and he can’t decide which he would prefer. He frowns deeply, and then drops his spoon back into the carton. “I’m not sure.” He says conclusively, and then looks slowly up at the Winchesters, his eyes far more serious than they should be about  _ice cream._

“Cas, it’s just  _food_. You _eat it._ That’s literally the whole thing.”

Castiel continues to frown, and Sam looks at Dean, frowning too, but not because of food-related confusion. “Leave him alone.” He hisses, and Dean raises his eyebrows.

“Dude, he’s like a million years old. He can handle it.” Sam is still a bit put out, and Dean shrugs dismissively. “Cas, c’mon. Either you like it or you give it to me. Don’t fucking drool all over it while you’re deciding.”

Castiel makes as if to concede, and pass it over, and then stops. “I’ve changed my mind.” He says, and takes it back. Dean slumps in his chair and kicks the booth across from him childishly, narrowly missing Castiel’s legs with the toes of his boots. Sam just leans on the table and ignores him.

It’s easy to forget that Castiel’s new to this kind of thing when in actual fact – as Dean is so adamant that they remember – he’s millions of years old. He doesn’t look it, though, and Sam thinks it’s a welcome change to have someone around that  _enjoys_ things so fully, even if he looks a bit puzzled whilst doing it. It makes a pleasant contrast with all the lost, grizzled hunters and world-weary victims in their lives. And it makes an even better contrast with  _Dean_ sometimes, who is sitting so low in his seat that his ass must literally be hanging between the booth’s two benches.

Castiel puts the ice cream tentatively between his lips again, tastes it far more slowly than he really has to, still holding the spoon like it’s a dangerous weapon rather than a small piece of pink plastic. He furrows his brows together, eyes on the spoon in his mouth, and Sam finds him, honestly, fascinating. He was initially disappointed by the angels – Dean was right, they’re dicks, as a rule – but Castiel is  _amazing_ in his own way, in the way he takes to things like a duck to water, albeit a very nervous duck with very few natural instincts.

Dean is making a fuss, grumbling, but he shifts a little in his seat when Castiel makes an appreciative noise and sticks the spoon back into the carton. “I like it.” He says, verdict given, finally, and Sam smiles at him, trying not to seem patronizing, because that really would make no sense  _at all._ Dean looks at him and sits up straight in his seat again, and starts slapping his palms against the plastic booth. He huffs and pretends boredom, but there’s really no mistaking the note of endearment in his voice when he says “ _Great._ Maybe next time we’ll get something other than vanilla.” 


End file.
